


Keeping Up with the Joneses

by somethinglikegumption



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: (kind of), Bughead - AU, F/M, Northside!Jughead, Role Reversal, Serpent!Betty, Smut, jughead's grandfather is in this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-20
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2019-02-04 17:28:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12775902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somethinglikegumption/pseuds/somethinglikegumption
Summary: Jughead Jones is the undisputed king of Riverdale. His grandfather is the mayor, his father owns half the town and controls Riverdale’s shady side as leader of the Serpents, and Jughead is Riverdale High’s student body president and editor of the school paper. His relationship with Betty Cooper, Southside student and new Serpent recruit, could bring it all crashing down.





	Keeping Up with the Joneses

**Author's Note:**

  * For [juggybetts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/juggybetts/gifts).



> A while ago (I literally have no idea when, that’s how long ago it was), [juggybetts on Tumblr](https://juggybetts.tumblr.com/) posted [this fancast with an amazing AU prompt.](https://juggybetts.tumblr.com/post/167483996788/juggybetts-juggybetts-the-joneses-mark) I’ve had this in my drafts for about two weeks now, and it’s finally finished.
> 
> Please enjoy, and go easy on me. This is my first time writing smut. I hope you like it!

It’s a normal Friday for Jughead Jones. Get up early and stop at one his dad’s overpriced coffee shops for breakfast and a hit of caffeine. Head to school to make sure none of the freshmen on the Blue and Gold staff managed to screw up the printing. Student council meeting during third period, lunch with Kevin, Archie, and Veronica, then back to the Blue and Gold office after school to get started on the next week’s issue.

He’s 200 words into an article on the school’s inability to keep a music teacher on staff for more than a month when Kevin finally shows up.

“Party at Cheryl’s tonight, and I’m not taking no for an answer. Her parents are heading up to Montreal and it’s going to be a rager,” Kevin says, panting like he just sprinted across campus to share this essential party knowledge. 

“Thanks for finally showing up Kevin! The printing went great, and I just got a quote from the school board on Grundy’s quick departure.” Jughead says sarcastically.

“Okay, sorry I’m late, but this was a very important conversation,” Kevin pleads.

Jughead holds up a hand to stop him. “No worries, Kev. If you had to be late, I’m glad it was today when we’re not on a deadline,” he admits.

“So back to the important stuff. Party tonight?” Kevin asks.

“I’m not sure,” Jughead says, “it’s family dinner tonight and you know Grandfather insists on the full nine yards.”

“Ah, Forsythe the silver fox. How is our illustrious mayor?” Kevin asks. “Still campaigning to throw the entire Southside in jail?”

Jughead just rolls his eyes at Kevin and turns back to his article. “You know I try to avoid the political side. It’s bad enough that he basically forced me to run for student council. The second I show any kind of interest in the city, he’ll have me in an internship at City Hall faster than you can say ‘Leslie Knope’."

“Speaking of interest,” Kevin hints, “Cheryl was very interested to know if you would grace us with your presence tonight.”

Jughead firmly ignores him and types another sentence about the mysterious resignation of Geraldine Grundy. 

“Fine, don’t answer me, but don’t be surprised when she calls you at 10 to make sure you’re coming.” With that, Kevin opens his backpack to pull out his laptop and they settle into the familiar routine.

Two hours, 300 words, and two outlines later, Jughead powers down his computer and packs up his stuff. Kevin had left 45 minutes earlier, citing a friend emergency, which Jughead took as code for “Veronica doesn’t know what to wear”. 

He’s not looking forward to the bi-weekly family dinner that night, the primary purpose of which seemed to be questioning him about his extracurriculars, his grades, and the status of his college applications. Sometimes if he was lucky, his father would have a new acquisition and they would spend the meal debating how the property could be used.

With the NYU early decision deadline coming up next week, however, he knows that this dinner will be all about him.

Shouldering his bag, he locks up the Blue and Gold room and almost skips out of Riverdale High, ready for the weekend. The football field is still lit up, the team stretching like they’re finishing practice. He can just make out Archie’s red hair in the center of the circle, no doubt reminding them that doing stupid things at the party tonight will only get them kicked off the team. Jughead snorts at the thought, remembering all of the stupid things Archie’s done at parties over the years. He’s definitely not one to be giving warnings to anyone else.

Checking his watch, Jughead curses and quickens his pace. Only an hour left to get home and change into dinner clothes, then head to the big white house on the hill that Grandfather lives in all alone. In the five years since Grandmother passed away, Dad had tried almost monthly to get Forsythe the 1st to move in with them or into one of the many new apartment complexes popping up. Each time, Forsythe had turned him down, the excuses ranging from the house already being paid in full to distrust of the management company running the apartment buildings. 

After Mom and Jellybean had gone to Toledo to take care of his maternal grandmother after hip surgery and decided to stay indefinitely, well, let’s just say Dad had bigger problems to worry about than where Grandfather was living.

Unlocking his car, Jughead tosses his bag in the backseat and climbs in, peeling out of the lot and heading for home.

* * *

Exactly one hour later, Jughead’s dressed in a jacket and tie, sitting across from his father at the formal dining table. The housekeeper is serving them the main course, famous Blossom maple ham, as Grandfather quizzes Jughead on his NYU application from his seat at the head of the table.

“Are you sure you want NYU?” Grandfather asks, taking a sip of his wine. “With your grades and activities and our connections, you could go to Harvard.”

“I like the city,” Jughead says firmly. “There are more job prospects for after graduation.”

“Always thinking ahead,” FP comments. “Hiram Lodge has an office in New York, I’m sure he’ll be willing to put in a good word for you.”

“When the time comes, of course,” Grandfather adds. “You know how important your GPA is.”

Jughead nods silently, taking a bite of his meal and mentally begging that Grandfather doesn’t continue with the same speech he gets at least once a month.

“It’s all part of being a well-rounded person,” he continues, and Jughead cringes internally at the thought of hearing this again. “Your father and I didn’t get where we are without hard work and dedication, and we expect the same from you and Forsythia.”

“I know, Grandfather,” Jughead says, “keep the family legacy alive and be successful.”

“Don’t forget to leave a little time for fun,” FP says, narrowing his eyes slightly at Grandfather. “I heard about that Blossom girl’s party tonight. That’s a girl you should get to know, if you know what I mean.” 

Jughead just stares at him blankly, trying to ignore the innuendo.

“Blossom Maple Syrup is highly lucrative, for their family and for the town. It can’t hurt to get to know her better.” Grandfather adds. “It’ll all be Cheryl’s one day, after that nasty business with her brother."

Jason Blossom was rarely mentioned in Riverdale anymore, and only as a cautionary tale about going against the status quo. After running off with a girl from the Southside to live on a commune upstate and besmirching the family name, Clifford and Penelope had disowned him entirely and put all their efforts into preparing Cheryl to take over the family business. 

Jughead sees his chance and takes it. “If it’s alright with you, I think I will go to Cheryl’s party.” 

“Fine, but don’t forget curfew, and behave. It’s one thing to have a little fun, but don’t embarrass us,” FP says. 

Jughead nods and turns back to his dinner. When the housekeeper comes to clear the plates for dessert, he sneaks his phone out of his pocket and types a quick message to the familiar number.

 

**Jughead**

Are you free at 9? My keepers think I’m going to a party.

 

He feels the phone vibrate during the second lecture of the night, this time focused on the delayed construction on the drive-in land on the Southside, and spends the next twenty minutes tapping his foot in anxious anticipation.

After the table has been cleared and Grandfather has finally given them his blessing to go about their lives, FP pulls his son aside in the front hallway.

“Don’t let your grandfather scare you away,” he says, “I just want you to have a little fun while you still can. You’re my serious child, always with your nose in a book, and I want you to experience being young and alive.”

FP takes his coat from the housekeeper and shrugs into it, before turning to his son for one last cutting line. “If word around the Wyrm is true,” he says teasingly, “that Blossom girl knows more than enough about fun for the two of you.” With that, he blows out the door, no doubt headed for his  _ other  _ job, the late night one he only hints about in private moments.

Jughead shudders at the implication that Cheryl’s hitting up the bars on the Southside, knowing the crazy things that get passed around especially in the territory of some of the smaller gangs. 

Grabbing his jacket, he remembers the text alert and pulls out his phone.

It’s only one word, but it’s the only word he needs.

_ Yes. _

* * *

At 8:30 sharp, he’s making his way to Pop’s. A Riverdale institution, Pop’s had fallen out of favor with the town after Pop Tate refused to sell part of the business to FP. After that, people gradually stopped going, choosing one of FP’s many new restaurants and coffee shops opened to combat the small diner’s sales. 

Jughead felt a sort of kinship with Pop’s. He too was fighting a losing battle with FP Jones. 

Entering the diner, he greets Pop Tate with a smile. “Hey Pop.”

“Jughead! How are you doing this fine evening? Can I get a table for ya?” Pop asks, leaning against the counter.

“Just a pickup today. Can I get - “

“Two milkshakes, one strawberry, one vanilla, two cheeseburgers, and one order of fries?”

Jughead smiles and nods his head. Taking a seat at the counter to wait, he pulls his phone out of his pocket.

 

**Kevin:**

In case you change your mind, Veronica’s picking me up and we can swing by and get you. Apparently she got in a fight with Archie.

 

**Cheryl:**

Hope I see you tonight, handsome. Picked out a special outfit just for you ;)

 

**Archie:**

Can you call me if you see Veronica? I said something stupid and now she won’t text me back.

 

**Veronica:**

DON’T tell Archie where I am. His misogynistic ass had the nerve to tell me to change clothes because my skirt was “too revealing”.

 

And from that number he has memorized:  _ Waiting for you… _

When Pop hands him his order, he pays and leaves a hefty tip, walking out of the diner with a swing in his step and a smile on his face. Jumping back in the car, he turns out of the parking lot and drives deeper into the Southside.

The high school is dark, but he knows exactly what he’s looking for, driving around to the side door with the broken lock and parking the car under the one light still shining on the lot. Grabbing the bag from Pop’s, he climbs out of the car and double checks the locks before entering the building.

Southside High is a dump compared to Riverdale High, with graffiti over the walls and posters boasting anti-smoking messages rather than advertising the next dance or game. It’s also surprisingly small, given that both schools have similar enrollment numbers. It plays in his favor though, since it’s easy for him to see the open door, letting light seep into the dark hall. Quickening his steps, he reaches the door and sees her.

Her messy blonde hair is draped over the back of the black leather jacket emblazoned with the familiar snake symbol. She’s typing away on an older PC, stopping every so often to check something in the Moleskine notebook propped up against a box of files sitting on the desk. Running a hand through her hair, she sighs and rolls her shoulders.

“Thought you might be hungry,” he says, and she jumps, turning to see who else is lurking around Southside High at 9 pm on a Friday.

“Juggie,” she breathes. 

Putting the bag down on the table, he’s suddenly got an armful of Betty Cooper. She kisses him, softly at first, then stronger as he wraps his arms around her thighs and boosts her up on the table. 

She giggles and pulls away, but his lips just move lower down, tracing a trail over the corner of her mouth and down her neck, stopping to suck at her pulse point.

“I missed you,” she whispers, trying to catch her breath. “Mmmm, I missed you too,” he murmurs, pulling her to the edge of the table and pressing himself firmly between her legs. His hand slides up the back of her shirt, under the heavy jacket, and plays with the clasp of her bra.

“Wait - Jughead -  _ wait _ \- “ she says, her hands grabbing at his belt loops and her neck tilting to avoid his lips, “ - we shouldn’t do this here.”

“Where then?” he asks, kissing her under her ear as a shiver runs up her spine. 

“My mom’s working the late shift tonight. We can go back to the trailer,” Betty says, pushing him away by the shoulders. One dark curl has fallen over his forehead and she tucks it back under the old crown beanie he threw on after seeing the snow outside, smiling as he grabs her hand and laces his fingers with his.

“Okay,” he says, and helps her down off the table. She quickly packs up her backpack and he picks up the Pop’s bag, and they walk hand in hand to his car.

In the car, she plugs in her phone and turns on a classic rock playlist, then grabs the Pop’s bag out of his hands and digs out a burger, unwrapping it and taking a huge bite. He looks at her incredulously, and she catches his glance and arches an eyebrow. “What?” She says through a mouthful of food.

“Nothing. You’re cute, you know?” He tells her, starting the car and heading towards Sunnyside Trailer Park. 

Betty blushes and ducks her head. “Thanks for bringing food,” she says after finishing the bite. “I know your dad has all those health food restaurants but nothing beats a Pop’s burger.” 

“Trust me, I know that better than anyone. And driving out there gives me a reason to see you,” he says, glancing at her. “Now give me that other burger.” 

It’s a short drive from the high school to Betty’s trailer, but Jughead can’t make it go fast enough. When he finally pulls up in front of the trailer Betty and her mom call home, he slams the car into park and is out faster than she can unbuckle her seatbelt.

She digs the keys out of her backpack and unlocks the door, leading him into the trailer. “Wait out here, I just need to change real quick,” she says, pointing him to the couch. 

He wraps his arms around her from behind, whispering in her ear and starting them both down the narrow hallway. “Why don’t I... _ help _ with that?” He teases.

She turns and pushes him off. “Couch.” She orders, softening the demand with a smirk. “I have a surprise for you and you’ll ruin it if you’re not a good boy and don’t stay in here.” He raises his hands in surrender and sits on the couch, watching her scurry down the hall and shut the door behind her.

It’s not the first time he’s been to the trailer, but every time he walks through the door he’s amazed at how homey it is. Pictures of Betty and her mom line the wood paneled walls, and the afghan tossed over the back of the couch looks hand knitted, the vibrant colors of the thread brightening up the sitting area. The bookshelf tucked into the corner is full of well-worn favorites, and Jughead’s about to get up and pick one to flip through when he hears her footsteps.

“Like it?” Her voice floats through the trailer and he looks up to see a vision in a plaid shirt, one that looks suspiciously like a shirt he used to own that went missing after a night in a back room at the Whyte Wyrm. 

“You’re perfect,” he says, his eyes hungry as she steps towards him and his hands slide up to grip her hips, just inches above where the shirt ends on her thighs. Pulling her closer, her knees part and come to rest on the couch on either side of his legs, and he can feel the warmth of her as she lowers herself onto his lap. “I knew I recognized that shirt.”

“I might have borrowed it...it was warm and it smelled like you,” she admits, lowering her head so her hair hangs like a curtain separating them from the outside world. 

He lifts one hand to her neck and tilts his face up to hers. Slowly, gently, their mouths meet and their hands wander, finally free to explore and tease and taste and touch here in the privacy of the run down trailer. 

She tastes like vanilla, the milkshake she’d sipped on flavoring her mouth. One of his hands slips from her neck, ghosting over her shoulder to reach the top button of the shirt she’d now claimed as her own. Quickly undoing the top two buttons, he pushes apart the fabric to reveal a lacy black bra that she definitely hadn’t been wearing before.

“This is new,” he says, breaking away from the kiss as her hands clutch at his hair, trying to pull him closer.

“Toni and I went shopping last weekend,” she says, breathing heavily as her fingers finally push off the beanie and move to the collar of his shirt.

“I think I can appreciate it much better in your bedroom,” he hints, lips lowering to mouth at her collarbone.

“By all means, lead the way,” she whispers into his hair, and he lifts her up with one smooth motion, carrying her into the back room as she kisses his neck, ear, forehead, anywhere she can reach before he tosses her on her bed and covers her with his body. 

He makes quick work of the plaid shirt and rears back to take in the matching lace bra and thong, more risqué than anything he’s seen her wear in the months they’ve been seeing other. She lifts up on her elbows, the corners of her mouth turning up into a smile and eyebrows raising as she takes in the fact that he’s still fully clothed.

He realizes this at the same time she does and grabs for his collar, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it into a corner. Undoing the button and zipper, he does the same with his jeans, leaving him in just his boxers as he lowers himself to hover over her and kiss her softly. 

With a sigh, she falls back into the pillows and wraps her hands over his shoulders, bringing him down to her level as he presses himself between her legs. He can feel her, hot and wet even through the fabric of his boxers, and he almost loses it then and there, feeling how much she wants him.

He kisses down the column of her neck and her hands turn into claws as he reaches her breasts, scraping down his back almost painfully when he unclasps her bra and slides the straps off her arms so he can take a nipple between his teeth. As he gently pulls, her hands slide up into his hair and pull him to the other side, and he’s all too happy to oblige. 

As his mouth works, his hands ghost over her torso to her hips and two fingers hook under the sides of her underwear, removing the last piece of fabric keeping her from view. Tugging the thong down her long, smooth legs, he avoids throwing it into the piles of clothes and sets it aside with the bra.

Betty notices the action and smirks at him. “You liked that set, huh?”

He places one last kiss on her breast and glances up at her. “Like is not a strong enough word,” he says, before kissing below her bellybutton and bringing two fingers to where she’s ready for him.

He watches carefully as her back arches and her eyes close. “ _ Juggie _ ,” she breathes as his thumb rises to rub her clit, slowly circling the nub as she adjusts to his fingers. Her breath starts coming faster, and her hips lift off the bed, before grinding down on his hand. He curls the two fingers inside, rubbing gently before her hand comes down and stills his.

He looks up at her questioningly. 

“I want you inside, Jughead,” she whispers.

He’s quick to remove his boxers but not so fast to locate his jeans and the condom in the pocket. Betty whistles and draws his attention to one she’s pulled from the nightstand, and he scrambles back onto the bed as she rips open the packet. He’s about to take it from her until she shakes her head, pulling him down to her and rolling so she’s on top.

“My turn now,” she teases. Sliding one hand down his chest, she presses a kiss above his heart and grasps his cock in one hand. He bites his lip at the feel of her soft hand around him, thinking that if she doesn’t do something soon he’s going to come right there. 

Rolling the condom on, she lifts up and places him at her entrance, before slowly sliding down his length and taking him fully inside. She takes a moment to adjust, then circles her hips, slowly, then picking up pace as his hands raise to grab her hips. Lowering her mouth to his, their tongues tangle as she lifts off of him almost completely before slamming back down. She moans into his mouth and his hips thrust up involuntarily, chasing the peak he knows is coming.

“Are you close?” He groans out, before releasing one hip to tease her clit with his free hand.

“Just keep -  _ oh -  _ right there,” she moans as she speeds up her pace. He follows her lead, rubbing her clit faster, and watches as her eyes tighten and her mouth falls open, her whole body clenching as she tips over the edge. Her walls tighten around him and he comes hard, panting out harsh breaths as she slows her motion above him and collapses on his chest.

She lays on top of him for a moment before he gently turns them onto their sides. Taking in her flushed face and the blonde hair sticking to her neck, he thinks she’s never been more beautiful than here in the trailer, in the light of the streetlamp, the only place where they can be themselves without the expectations of the world getting in the way.

He pushes one lock of hair behind her ear as her eyes focus on him sleepily. 

“I’m glad the two hours I spent in the mall were worth it,” she says, a smile in those green eyes.

“Absolutely worth it,” he tells her. “What time does your mom get home?”

“2 am, so about four hours,” she says.

“Whatever will we do with those four hours?” He teases, and smiles as she snuggles up to him and kisses the underside of his jaw.

“I’m sure we can think of something,” she promises, and wraps her arms around his waist, her eyes slipping closed.

He runs his fingers through her blonde waves, and heaves a sigh. In four hours, he’ll have to sneak back to his house and find someone to cover for him with his dad in case he goes asking about the party. In four hours, he’ll have to go back to his life, away from this girl he might even love. For now though, he’d lay here and breathe in her scent, and dream of a different time and different place where they could be together for good.


End file.
